


Ribbons & Ropes

by theclaravoyant



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: BDSM, Bondage, Domme!Bobbi, Explicit Consent, F/F, Femslash February, Femslash February 2017, Finger Fucking, Orgasm Delay/Denial, PWP, Praise Kink, Smut, Toys, sub!jemma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-12
Updated: 2017-02-12
Packaged: 2018-09-23 18:24:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9670667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theclaravoyant/pseuds/theclaravoyant
Summary: "Dress up for me, baby doll xx"Smutty Simmorse for the prompt: Simmorse + bondage, sub!Jemma.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is researched & has every intent to follow the rules of safe, sane & consensual BDSM. Straying from SSC is not intentional and not supported by the author.
> 
> I am taking both smutty and non-smutty Femslash Feb prompts/requests here or on tumblr (@theclaravoyant). I reserve the right to deny requests, but I will give you the opportunity to submit another if I turn it down

for [more smutty Simmorse (x](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/ApplePie_BananaMilkshakes/works)) - for [non-smutty Simmorse (x)](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9627416/chapters/21749822)

-

It had been a long day at the lab, and when Jemma finally got home all she wanted was to have a cup of tea, a nice shower, and a sleep. Her plans were quickly changed, however, when she saw the package awaiting her on the kitchen counter: a large, flat box, filled with crepe paper and tied with a bow. A note on top read -

_Dress up for me, baby doll xx  
9pm_

Jemma smiled, her spirits immediately lifted. She kissed the lipstick mark on the bottom of the note, feeling a thrill run through her. Mistress had plans for her tonight, and she was never one to disappoint.

Jemma moved the note aside and perched it by the clock, where she could still see it – along with how much time she had left to prepare – and then she opened the package. Inside, there was a lavish gift from Mistress: a baby-pink, figure-hugging bustier. It was made out of strong stuff, not the flimsiness that Mistress usually enjoyed ripping away, though Jemma had no doubt she still could if she tried. But no, the flimsier stuff was for the panties tonight - a small, lacy pair Mistress had provided with the bustier – along with of course, the offer of whatever else Jemma wanted to wear.

 _Dress up for me,_ she had been instructed. Jemma pondered. She could be cheeky, and put on every jacket and pair of socks she could find. She could make her Mistress work, tonight. But this gift was too beautiful to hide just for a little thrill. She’d much rather show it off.

First, a shower. She had to make herself clean and ready. Thrilled as she was by the thought of what was to come, it was difficult not to touch herself in anticipation. Jemma had been well-trained, though, and she knew she was to leave herself alone until instructed. She was all Bobbi’s tonight.

-

At nine o’clock, as promised, the door to Jemma’s apartment swung open. Bobbi swanned in like she owned the place – which she all but did – and breathed in the sweet, pastel, domestic scents of Jemma’s home. It was not all that different from Bobbi’s set-up really, but a different colour and scent scheme never failed to work wonders.

Bobbi shucked off her overcoat and hung it over the back of a chair, wandering slowly around the room. She could afford to give her pet a little more time. It had been so long since they’d met here. Perhaps she could have Jemma do some cooking, next time. Or perhaps she could see if they’d be allowed to make good use of that sturdy dining table. She smirked, imagining Jemma splayed out over it, begging for pleasure, and then eating there the next day.

Well, now she really was running late. Not to Jemma, of course – a Mistress was always on time – but still. She was curious to see what Jemma had done with her loose rein.

She was not disappointed.

After scouting through the house, in case Jemma had chosen to surprise her, Bobbi ended up in the bedroom. It had a large and spacious, thickly carpeted floor, and Bobbi wondered if anyone had ever asked Jemma what she needed all the space for. Bobbi wondered if Jemma had ever answered. Then she stopped wondering much of anything at all, because her eyes found her gift.

Jemma was perched on the end of the bed, her pose the picture of demure grace. She sat like a lady with her knees and ankles together, toes pointed, swept to the side a little. Her chin was proud but her eyes cast down, head turned to the side too. But rather than sitting them in her lap, she had put her hands behind her back, holding her elbows and wrists together in such a way that her back arched and forced her breasts to be on show.

“My, aren’t you precious,” Bobbi murmured, looking her up and down with hungry eyes. Jemma didn’t move, letting Bobbi’s gaze move over her without question or prideful self-indulgence. Bobbi drunk in the way the bustier looked on her – a perfect fit, a perfect colour, she wondered how purple would go. She admired the panties Jemma had either not bothered or not dared to hide, and followed Jemma’s smooth, pale legs from there down to lacy thigh garters and stockings, and white heeled shoes with little bows. If Bobbi hadn’t known better, she might have been looking at a still life of a girl about to slip on a pinafore over the top of it all and head off to tea, the sinful elegance of the bustier and its wearer’s ballerina-like posture wasted on unappreciative eyes.

“Eyes up, poppet,” Bobbi instructed. Only then did Jemma move, a smile touching her lips at the knowledge that she had pleased her Mistress.

“Do you like your gift?” Bobbi asked, and Jemma nodded.

“Yes Ma’am,” she said. “I wanted to show it off for you.”

“You show it beautifully,” Bobbi praised, pacing, and watching Jemma move only her head to keep eyes on her Mistress. “Your shoulders are strong. Can you hold it?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” Jemma confirmed. “Although I might need some assistance if I’m to be distracted.”

A sly smile crept onto Bobbi’s lips, and she could see it excite Jemma. She was a clever one. Bobbi moved languidly over to the crate Jemma had pulled out in preparation. She drew out two lengths of rope and saw Jemma twitch, desperate to retain her form despite the thrill of anticipation she felt. Bobbi bound her elbows and wrists together, holding her arms back, and then stepped away again to admire her handiwork.

-

Mistress stepped back, her sharp blue eyes warming in appreciation as she looked Jemma over again. Jemma relaxed her arms against their restraints. Her flexible shoulders didn’t struggle with the pose, but she was glad that she no longer required conscious thought to uphold it. She could focus more now on her Mistress.

Mistress Bobbi stood before Jemma’s eyes in a black leather corset, with front clasps and back laces and a flush of stiff lace at the hips. Her legs were long and muscled and bare, and her stilettos were tall and sharp enough that Jemma could almost feel them digging into her flesh as she looked. She was glad not to have to keep her arms back mentally now, as Mistress kneeled.

“Mistress,” she breathed, honoured. “Why?”

“Bend for me,” Mistress instructed, and lifted Jemma’s heels into the air. She maintained all elements of her posture that had not been instructed to change, only moving her legs as her Mistress moved them. And Mistress tested her: moving her ankles without her knees, moving her legs apart and together, up and down, crossing and spreading. Jemma flexed with acute control, and Mistress purred in satisfaction.

“Lie back,” and Jemma did, and Mistress stood and spread her legs so far apart that Jemma almost whimpered – not in pain, but at the thought that something was going to happen so soon.

“Not yet, poppet,” Mistress informed her, with an amused smirk. Jemma was a lot hornier than she was trying to let on, but of course, Mistress could see through it. She teased Jemma by standing inches from her pussy and not touching it, barely acknowledging it was there. She ran her finger up the inside of Jemma’s thigh, but from the inside to the outside. Jemma squirmed, desperate to correct her, but Mistress only removed her shoes; first one, then the other, slowly and calmly.

“You’ve given me a beautiful flower to unwrap tonight,” Mistress informed her, which settled her somewhat. At least she was being pleasing, even though she had to wait. “I’m going to take my time if I so choose.”

 _Choose not. Choose not,_ Jemma begged silently.

Mistress laughed, but her fingers paused at the garter.

“Perhaps you’re right,” she said. “You should keep those on, poppet. I do rather like you all done up for me, and I can see you’re getting _desperate_ to move things along. There’s no harm in getting you a little ready. We can multitask, can’t we?”

Her fingers hovered over Jemma’s panties, but she didn’t pull them away. She rubbed through the fabric, faster and faster until Jemma mewled and squirmed with inescapable need. Her toes curled. She wanted to reach in and touch herself with more substance, but of course, her hands were bound back.

“That’s it, my sweet,” Mistress crooned. “I need you nice and wet for me tonight, mm, yes. Now you stay just like that, I’ll back in a moment.”

Jemma concentrated on keeping her legs straight and open, just where Mistress had left them, as the fingers left. When they returned, it was with a small metal device, like a bullet, that they tucked inside her panties before leaving again. A small vibration emanated from it, tickling her clit, and Jemma almost snapped her legs shut in surprise.

“Don’t be alarmed, my dear,” Mistress instructed. “It’s just our little friend, you’ve met him before. He’s going to keep you wet and ready while I set up.”

“Yes, Mistress,” Jemma acknowledged. “May – May I close my legs, Mistress?”

-

Bobbi thought about it. She had half a mind to see how much of the splits Jemma could take, but she’d be doing enough else with her tonight. She’d need her leg strength. Plus, for all the beauty of her taught, lean muscles, Bobbi knew Jemma was just as beautiful curling around her pleasure, desperate to be touched.

“You may bend them,” she instructed. “But don’t close them. No stimulation. That’s what our friend is for, and my fingers. That’s all.”

“Yes Ma’am.”

Jemma breathed a sigh of gratitude and bent her legs in, shivering with another vibration pulse. Her back arched and her feet searched the sheets as if there was a place she might find somehow to soothe her tingling, aching middle.

“Turn around to face me while I work,” Bobbi instructed, and Jemma turned herself away from the door so that her open legs faced the floor space where Bobbi was setting up a simple metal rig. Jemma had been right to try and speed them up earlier, Bobbi thought; the image of Jemma, stretched out, bound and willing in here was almost too much to bear, but Bobbi didn’t dare rush it. At least she could look over at any time and see Jemma’s writhing, panting body. She was getting close, and the panties were soaked, but the vibrations were far enough apart to keep her from losing it.

“Are you – are you ready, Ma’am?” Jemma asked, her voice choking a little as she knew this was something she shouldn’t be asking. “It’s just, I think I’m close.”

“You’re right on the edge, poppet, I can see that,” Bobbi murmured, “but don’t worry, I’ve got it under control.”

Jemma was gasping with every vibration now, desperate to obey and please but struggling against her body’s desire to topple into bliss. All it would take now was for her to close her legs, just for a moment, just to get that last element of missing friction. But Mistress had other plans.

-

“Stand up.”

Jemma groaned at the instruction. At least it was a release from this unending, unbreaking torture of near-bliss. She rolled and stood on the floor. It was easy to move without her hands but when she saw the structure that her Mistress had set, her already weak knees almost gave way. It was a simple set-up, but earlier, Mistress had showed her some of the ties that were possible within its frame. She’d had dreams about some of them.

“I promised you more ropes this time, because you liked it before, didn’t you?”

Jemma nodded. “Yes Ma’am.”

“I’m going to need all your strength and beauty,” Mistress demanded, wrapping and tying ropes of varying thickness around her torso. “All tied up like a present for me. I’m going to _fuck you_ til you can’t stand up without them.”

Jemma quivered, and smiled. “Yes Ma’am.”

Over the gifted bustier, Jemma now wore a harness of rope. Mistress grabbed the back of it and hauled her over to the metal frame, where there were more ropes waiting for her to be strapped into.

“Lean forward, poppet,” Mistress instructed. “Offer yourself to me. All the way. That’s a girl.”

She tied Jemma in at a ninety-degree angle, bent at the hip, her neck and bottom exposed while her torso and wrists were thoroughly bound, securing her like an insect in a spider’s web. Jemma couldn’t help but lift her head and look around, wondering what was to happen next. Mistress looked satisfied. She was biting her lip and her eyes were dark and stormy, drinking in Jemma’s exposed behind, wondering what to do with it. Jemma stood on her toes, testing her permissions by accentuating her bottom. Mistress purred.

“Push that perky little ass any higher and I might just have to take that too,” she murmured. Then: “Stay there.”

She must have noticed the flash of hesitation in Jemma to obey this time. Slowing her approach to their crate of toys, Mistress checked; “Something you want to say?”

Jemma hesitated again, but Mistress waited until it spilled out like a confession, in a rush of awkward breath.

“Apple pie.”

“Ah. No need to be embarrassed, poppet,” Mistress insisted, firm and gentle, in a voice that assured her Jemma had never needed doubt. “It was a compliment, no need for it to be anything more. There’s plenty of other things to play with tonight.”

Jemma relaxed, and the rope bondings pulled and pressed around her. She remembered her Mistress’ promise. _I’m going to fuck you till you can’t stand without them._ A shiver of glee ran through her.

“Take me, Mistress,” she begged. “Take me in the ropes, like you said.”

“I fully intend to, my dear,” Mistress vowed, in a deep and hungry voice. “Don’t you worry, you’ll be screaming by the end. In fact, we might need to do something about that when I’m finished here.”

-

Bobbi felt breathless with desire, watching Jemma squirm against her restraints in an effort to see her Mistress. She couldn’t wait to feel Jemma come undone at last. Her fingers moved swiftly on the spreader bar, bracing Jemma’s ankles apart with keen urgency while she was out of sight, before she recovered her image of grace and power, and strode back into Jemma’s field of vision, bearing a ball-gag. Jemma opened her mouth eagerly, nuzzling up to Bobbi’s hand.

“Hungry little thing, aren’t you?” Bobbi teased, and Jemma nodded enthusiastically. “Don’t you worry. I’ll fill you up soon.”

Jemma closed her eyes, relishing the thought as Bobbi slipped the ball-gag into her mouth and fastened it behind her head. For good measure, Bobbi slipped her hands down Jemma’s neck to her cleavage, and then up and into her hair. Jemma chased her fingers like a cat, pushing against her, and Bobbi made a mess of her hair, pulling and rubbing and grinning with glee.

“You’re _mine,”_ she growled, enthralled. “ _You’re mine._ ”

Jemma’s head, and the ball gag, bounced in agreement, and Bobbi could feel herself begin to grow wet. A rush of power and control, and the satisfaction of Jemma’s bound body still chasing her attention, was enough to make her head spin.

“You’re mine, poppet,” Bobbi repeated, and dragged her hand across Jemma’s shoulder and back and down to her bottom, walking around her on the way and keeping contact with either Jemma’s skin or the ropes the whole time. “You look so good for me. I can’t wait to get inside you.”

 _“Please,”_ Jemma was saying, though it was muffled by the gag.

“Your legs are so beautiful. I’m glad I let you keep the garters,” Bobbi continued, peering at the birds-eye view from Jemma’s ass downward at her spread legs, held apart by the bar and on her toes. Lean muscle in a dainty pose, her toes stretching and flexing as electric tingles ran through her nerves. Bobbi almost wanted to eat her out then and there from upside down, with her legs as supports, but she’d planned something else already.

 _“PLeaSE,”_ Jemma repeated, wriggling, as Bobbi stroked her bare cheeks with a torturously feather-light touch, round and round, over and over, until she all of a sudden ripped the panties away, tearing their seams and tossing them aside.

“Are you ready?” Bobbi growled, and leaned on Jemma’s back, reaching under her to feel her wet, swollen folds. Aggressively, she ran her fingers over and through them. She could imagine them reddening at her touch. The bullet vibrator was out of the way now and there was just her, shaking Jemma’s whole form against the frame with the enthusiasm of her strokes.

-

Mistress had found her clit with boldness and long, sleek nails, and she’d gone from fondling to attacking so quickly. Jemma shivered and jumped but she recovered, she was ready. She’d been dripping wet all night, just waiting for this, waiting for contact at last. She chased it, angling and thrusting as best she could, wondering when she would find fingers or a tongue at her entrance, but she found something else instead.

Plastic? Rubber? She couldn’t tell, but as her Mistress eased it into her, her knees shuddered. Her toes, already pointed, scrabbled against the carpet as the bundle of nerves at her centre tingled and she moaned loudly at the new sensation. It was cold and hard, but not unpleasant, and as her Mistress drove it in and out of her, she felt her pussy clench and unclench around it ravenously.

“Good girl,” Mistress purred, leaning over her, letting Jemma feel the pressure of her body as she thrust the dildo in and out. Faster and faster, Mistress moved, until the whole rope set-up was rocking and Jemma was losing her footing. Jemma’s hands fumbled with the ropes above her, looking for something to grab for support, bound as she was. She screamed into the gag instead, alternating begging and shrieking as her body filled and emptied and her core coiled and coiled. She’d been fucked harder and faster than this before, but usually with her face in a pillow, with blankets and a mattress around her to catch her if she were to fall.

 _Trust the ropes,_ she told herself, feeling them tense and press against her. They were as steady as any stunt or theatre ropes. They weren’t going to let her go, no matter how the pressure building inside her was screaming for her to fly off into infinity.

“Good girl,” her Mistress repeated, moving harder and faster and panting, and bucking her own hips against Jemma’s as Jemma climbed closer and closer to orgasm. “Come for me baby, I’m here, I’ll catch you. Come for me.”

Up and up and up, Mistress pushed her. Jemma swore she could even see the stars. Then it happened. The wave crashed and she was falling. There was no inside, or outside. There was no toy, no ropes. Just her, falling through space, listening to the sound of her Mistress’ voice, encouraging her into the supernova and out the other side of it.

“Yes! That’s my girl!” she cried. “Just like that, baby, just like that.”

When Jemma came back to Earth, she felt the ropes close around her like a hug. She realised she was hanging limp in their support, having given her trust over to them – and to her Mistress - completely. Even her toes were no longer pointed, and her knees shook with post-orgasmic quakes, useless.

Mistress gently swept Jemma’s wild hair out of her face, and unclipped the gag.

“You’re exhausted, poppet,” she crooned. “What a good girl.”

Jemma smiled and nodded, unable to form words again just yet.

“We’re going to have to use this pose again, aren’t we?”

 _Yes Ma’am, yes please._ Jemma hoped the way her legs were still shaking spoke for her. Mistress kissed the top of her head gently, and stroked her cheek.

“And this bodice, I think, without the ropes. Definitely wear that again, my sweet, I must admire it properly for myself up close.”

-

Bobbi continued to murmur and praise as she untied Jemma’s bonds one by one. First she released her from the gag and the spreader rod, then from the metal frame, and carried her over to the bed. She eased Jemma down onto the sheets and lovingly, lavishly untied her wrists and elbows. She stretched them forward, and flexed and directed them gently; counter-stretching the pose Jemma had held them in for so long. Then she placed a kiss on each wrist, and Jemma sighed and settled. She still had the less demanding parts of the rope harness on, and the bustier and garters, but they could all wait a little longer. Bobbi sighed and placed another soft kiss on Jemma’s lips.

“You’re so beautiful, my girl,” she purred. “Rest now. I have to go finish something off, because of what you do to me, and then I’ll be back, love. You just rest in the clouds. That’s my girl.”

Jemma nodded and Bobbi left for the bathroom. It wasn’t hard to bring herself the rest of the way she hadn’t quite reached, focused on Jemma as she had been. It was surprisingly hard work, trying to fuck somebody by hand from that angle. Perhaps next time she should raise Jemma up and try a strap-on? The very thought was enough to tip her over.

Satisfied now, Bobbi stripped out of the leather corset. For all its power and command, it was not comfortable for cuddles in the least. For that she had a set of cotton pyjamas – one for herself, and another for Jemma that she would eventually change her into, after a clean-up, some water and a massage. And then, she hoped, they would sleep as soundly, and as softly, and as tangled up in each other as a basket of kittens.


End file.
